Clash of Heaven and Hell
by erieh
Summary: Drabbles out of headcanons. Rivetra. Four times Petra obeyed his commands and the one time she didn't.
1. Competitive

_Levi finds a better way to shut his girlfriend up who doesn't want to hang up on him._

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"So, tomorrow. My place." Levi says in a deadpan voice and he hopes by then that she'd immediately end the call after telling her their plan. He's not supposed to do it or it would not seem as if he's not familiar with chivalry anymore.

A few moments later though, he hears her sigh and wonders why the hell she hasn't hanged up on him yet. He has something very important to do now and he knew she's just teasing him, but then again, he's not really the type to end the call when she's still on the other line.

"Petra, you do know that I still have to clean up the mess my _dear_ niece did."

"Yeah, but you can do it later. Entertain me for a while."

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, getting impatient every second she delays him. He loves her to the core, really, but she tends to be impossible sometimes.

"Petra—"

"No."

"Hang up."

"That won't do."

"Please?"

"You go first."

"Come on. I'll entertain you and you'll hang up afterwards."

There's a pregnant silence.

"You'll entertain me and you'll hang up first." He hears her mumble.

_Impossible girl, really._

"Well, if you insist. Why don't we try this telephone sex I've been hear—"

Levi puts his phone away from his ear when he hears continuous beeping sound.

_Serves her right._

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-:-

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A/N: Soooo, I decided to make drabbles out of the headcanons I received.

I suck at this, sorry.


	2. Austerity

_Four times Petra obeyed his commands and the one time she didn't._

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_**Smile.**_

Levi was almost convinced she wasn't fit to be a soldier the first time he saw her.

He was told that at the age of nineteen, Petra Ral had already lost her mother and comrades to those gigantic criminals; he knew she had been a witness to innumerable wasted deaths—which is why he wondered why even after all those misfortunes, she was still able to smile. She reminded him of Isabel a lot, unfortunately. She was all smiles and the perfect epitome of sun—something metaphorical to what his self-proclaimed sister was.

He was doing his best to divert his attention from the suffering the loss caused, yet the more he skipped that part, the more that despising scene replayed on his mind—just by looking at her.

And he was annoyed, really.

She was supposed to take things seriously; frown at the massive unmoving bodies lying on the ground, gnash her teeth at those giants who knew nothing but cause destruction upon mankind, and Petra had been nothing like that for the past months he knew her—yet he was perplexed the very first time he fought alongside her.

That was in year 844; the time they set the twenty-third expedition beyond the walls, and it was his first—or second time, as an official squad leader of Survey Corps. It was no different from the previous excursion he was in, and he was once again reminded of that dreary day he lost Farlan and Isabel.

Then he saw her there on one of the trees, skillfully operating her 3D maneuver gear and preparing to start an onslaught towards a 4-meter titan—easily eradicating it with her blades in just seconds. She was exceptionally gifted at that, he noticed, perhaps given by the countless hardships she experienced in the past. Before he could call her to order to support the other flanks, she was already kneeling on the ground, wiping blood from the face of her lifeless superior—and that was the first time he saw her crying over a dead soldier.

A few days after the expedition, an announcement about reassignment spread like a wildfire quickly. The death toll was too high, and it was even more vexing that most of their strong soldiers were victims of the titans—Petra's captain being one of them.

She was quiet the whole time during the cremation service—and he saw how hollow her eyes had been while looking at the bodies being thrown at the blazing fire.

He was glad that she was having a heart fit for a soldier, but he knew he'd be lying if he'd say that he wasn't waiting for her brightness to come back.

He was dead set on leaving her that way, yet the next thing he knew, he was already behind her tapping her shoulder. She looked back at him and gave him a salute.

He was quiet for a few seconds, thinking of what he should say to comfort her—but he was never good with words; he grew up using the thug vocabulary and he knew he wasn't bothered cursing and letting out profanities when he wanted to, even in front of Commander Erwin Smith, yet he found himself conveying the first things that he thought through his mouth.

"Smile and live on. He'd want that."

That was his first command at her.

She was just staring at him for a moment, and he was surprised when he saw her eyes coming back to life; she was nodding and crying but with a small smile this time and that was when he decided that he'd rather see her in this state than when she was as defeated as the bones scattered on the ground.

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_**Offer your life to humanity.**_

The day for reassignment then came like a whirlwind.

There were a total of thirty-three soldiers who lost their superiors in the field, and among those soldiers were newly-graduated Auruo Bossard, Günter Schultz and Eld Jinn; members under captain Moses Brown's leadership. He knew that Brown was one of the skillful captains in the division—from what he heard and saw, yet he died in the end protecting them from an aberrant that destroyed their formation.

Amidst all that, they remained standing strong; heads held up high and had a perfect salute depicting their immovable service to humanity. And he decided they were the ones he needed to fight with by his side.

And then there was Petra.

It seemed that she was all different from the last time he saw her—she was back to her usual smile and cheer, and he thought as if the clouds that were once looming over them were dissipated by her sunny smile.

He knew she was still mourning over her loss, but together with his oblivious worry for her was his admiration at how strong she was—physically and emotionally. Her mental state was stable and he was more than fine with that.

He especially requested the four of them to be under his command. Surprisingly, the three immediately agreed except for her. She was at a loss when he told her he had personally picked her, and he didn't quite understand the meaning behind the sudden change of color on her freckled cheeks.

Later that night, he was totally flabbergasted when he saw her in front of his door, still in her uniform. He was about to tell her to come in, but she beat him to it by saluting and telling him that she was gonna devote all her life to him and with one last bow, she prepared to retire for the night.

Before she could go though, he had already called her name—not Ral, not cadet or private, but her name Petra.

She stopped on her tracks to face him, and once again, he could not comprehend the inexplicable redness of her face when he told her that she should offer her life to humanity, but he'd consider her suggestion of having her life dedicated to him.

Somehow, he developed the habit of making her bring out that color on her face when they were alone.

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_**Stay with me.**_

The 34th expedition brought more casualties than they expected.

They were pretty sure of the new strategy they devised, but like the previous excursions, the result was the same—only this time, the number of deaths was doubled. And the saddest part about sacrificing their comrades was that they still couldn't figure out a thing or two about the titans except for the weakness on their neck they learned years ago.

Not only was he chafed at the long list of names of those who died, he was also ordered to make up an announcement that the bodies they couldn't retrieve were missing in action. He never knew how to lie; something he picked up during his stay at the undergrounds. He wasn't the type to sugarcoat his words—he was brutally honest and he never once cared about what people would say about him: may it be something pleasing or just plain insult towards him.

So it took its toll on him when he was the one assigned to announce it on public.

As expected, people's reactions were divided: some were totally apathetic, some were understanding enough, and of course, most of them were mad, telling him how their taxes were wasted to the _useless division_ like theirs.

Most of the time, he'd actually give them a rational answer about how those people should fight the titans instead of them and they would immediately shut up.

But he had her as his back-up that time.

She was behind him, tapping his shoulder and shaking her head—and he got her message. So he decided to ignore all of the protests and curses thrown at him while she was protecting him from the armed civilians.

Somehow, they managed to get through it without getting hurt.

He was drained from the whole day of explanation and he suddenly remembered the stack of papers and reports he left that he had to sign. He was all worn out going through the list once again; some were people he knew, and some he never knew actually existed.

He was dead-tired, and all he wanted to do was to sleep, but Petra came then barging in his room with a cup of coffee in her hands.

There were occasional words from her and some from him, but it was a comfortable silence and that was the break he needed. Sometimes, they would talk about the result of the expedition, and sometimes about the families that were left. And she would try her best to desert such conversation and open up a lighter one, but he'd refuse.

He was ready to talk about things like that; like how they were prepared to face reality and die for humanity.

It was ridiculously perfect too, having her by his side and talking to her about death—it was ironic and he did not know why.

She was alive yet he felt as if she was too far from him—maybe because they had different views. But still, he had no idea.

So instead, he asked her to stay with him—right now or for the next years of their lives.

She did comply.

_For the meantime, at least._

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_**Be happy.**_

Everything was set the day before their 57th expedition.

Even the entire division's mind was almost put at peace. They may have a chance now compared to the days when they never thought that human were capable of shifting into the likes of their murderers.

Some of them were laid back and some were still in fear for what tomorrow may bring.

No one had no idea what could happen in just a second and he knew better than that.

But she was insistent; recursively telling him that they should calm down for a while. He was—and he was too sure of that (he wouldn't earn the title humanity's strongest for nothing). In the end, he gave up and complied with her sole wish and the next thing he knew, they were already at the vicinity of wall Rose's marketplace.

She was almost dragging him from stalls to stalls, but she would occasionally follow him where he wanted to go—especially when he was checking up cleaning materials perfect for their former headquarters.

Then there was this one place she entered—a store filled with garments, and he almost sneezed because of the foul smell.

She was rummaging through the racks, and when he asked what it was for, she said it was for Eld—and he remembered that his subordinate was indeed getting married soon.

The store clerk then came up to them, telling her how beautiful the dress would look on her and how they were a nice couple.

That never entered his mind though—he never intended to get married much less create a relationship (especially a romantic one) when he knew he could lose it in an instant—but Petra was smiling and her face had the color he grew to love, and he couldn't argue more.

But then again, she was a lot younger than him and he knew she had so much ahead of her. They couldn't be any more than being captain and soldier.

He wasn't dead set on ruining that.

Once they were back, he summoned her in his office.

He was sure she had no idea why, but she surprised him when she asked him if he was troubled with her reaction towards what the salesclerk said.

He was supposed to answer a straight 'yes', but he saw how her eyes were disappointed, so nothing came except for his silence.

She said she was contented just staying by his side, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He wanted her free from obligation of devoting her life to him, and he knew things would never be the same after that.

And no matter how hard he was trying to convince himself that they were never cut out for such terms, he wished deep within his mind that they were more than just captain and soldier.

Still, he did not know why.

And although he had a nagging feeling of restlessness on his mind, he still asked her to be happy.

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He knew he was staring at her from above with such hollow eyes she once had but he didn't care.

She wasn't fit to be a soldier after all.

She was supposed to be smiling, but she wasn't. The air was—laughing, mocking him by swaying her blood-smeared hair and her face he always wanted to see first thing every end of their excursion.

She was supposed to offer her life to humanity—not grace them with the absence of her body thrown somewhere he could not remember, and now the only red thing he could see on her face was something he never caused—it was disgusting; such thing he knew would never fit her.

He never prepared for the day he'd stay up all night alone—with the bland coffee he'd most likely prepare for himself after spending the whole day dealing with people. He was back to square one.

And when he heard his voice calling out to him, telling him that she was totally devoted to him in every way, he could not remember what he asked her before this fateful day. He was too absorbed on recalling what they should have been, or what they were supposed to do after their mission.

But his memory was too hazy. And he continuously try to chant the mantra that she wasn't fit for a soldier; that she was supposed to be in his office waiting for him with her coffee, smiling.

She wasn't really, because she ignored his commands she once followed.

_**Survive.**_

Yet she didn't

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A/N: Ah, no. Don't kill me please.

This is my friend, Isa-chan's headcanon. So yeah, this is for you, Isacchi! Now you made me almost cry.

Also, this is the very first angst fic I've ever written—as in very first, so pardon me if I failed to make you cry or break your heart. Isayama-sensei is the one expert at this field.


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